


A Fire You Can't Put Out

by Shut_Up_Marius



Series: Bastille Day Porn [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shut_Up_Marius/pseuds/Shut_Up_Marius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Grantaire leaves the fire station five hours later, all danced-out, not as drunk as he'd anticipated and with a phone number scribbled on the palm of his hand. So does Eponine, but that's another story."</p><p>This is Eponine's story.</p><p>She didn't exactly come to this party to get laid, but if the hot fireman is offering, hey, it would almost be impolite to decline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fire You Can't Put Out

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, Eponine deserves to get some really good sex. So I tried to give her it, via Bahorel's hot bod.
> 
> Thanks to Jenn for being so supportive and understanding when I moaned about not being able to write.
> 
> Title heavily influeced by Panic! At The Disco's A Fever You Can't Sweat Out.

Eponine watches as Grantaire leaves, weaving through the crowd, a determined look on his face. When she turns her head she catches the back of the blonde fireman's head disappearing behind the stage and she grins. Good for Grantaire.

Now she needs to worry about herself. She didn't agree to come to the firemen's ball to get laid. Doesn't mean she's blind, though : her best friend isn't the only one whose moves garnered attention and she's never been one to look a gifthorse in the mouth.

That one fireman, standing on the inner edge of the circle that had formed around them, had stared at her the entire time. And the glint in his eyes had told Eponine he hadn't been admiring her dance moves.

She would have been hard-pressed to miss him ; the guy was built like a brickhouse, his sleeveless shirt leaving little to the imagination with the way it stretched over his muscular chest, its crisp white colour creating a stunning contrast against his tan skin. His arms were veritable tree trunks, and Eponine is willing to bet his legs are pretty spectacular as well.

She fixes her hair quickly, tucking a few tendrils behind her ears before she sets out on her quest to find him.

« A giant with a buzzcut. Thick eyebrows. Five o'clock shadow. Light eyes. Great nose, » she recites under her breath, like remembering what he looks like will make him appear before her. Beetljuice, Beetljuice, Beetljuice.

It doesn't work ; she circles the courtyard twice before she makes it back to the bar and spots him again. He's looking right at her. Apparently he found her first.

He waves at her with a grin and Eponine grins back before she turns towards the bar. She gives the fireman a single look over her shoulder and winks at him. She's barely counted to seven when she hears a cough on her left.

The way the man brushes her arm when he siddles up to her is everything but accidental and Eponine feels a jolt of anticipation go through her.

« Hi. »

A shiver runs down Eponine's spine ; what do you know, the guy's voice is a deep rumble. She gets another hot flash when she gets a proper look at his face (way, way up) : his eyes are a fascinating light green colour. They're also full of filthy, filthy promises.

« Hi. Eponine, » she says, sticking out her hand.

He takes it in both of his hands with a playful grin and brushes his lips against the fine skin. « I'm Bahorel. Can I interest you in a drink ? »

« You sure can, Bahorel : walking around the courtyard in this crowd has made me thirsty. »

« I'm sorry for the inconvenience, » he grins seductively. « The dancing was probably exhausting as well. »

He gestures towards the remaining refreshments on the table and Eponine picks the orange juice. He pours it for her and she waits until he's got his own to clink their plastic cups. « Not when you're used to it, » she says as he takes a big gulp, « I could go all night. »

Bahorel chokes on his drink and Eponine takes a sip to hide her smile. He recovers quickly and there's a mischievious glint in his eyes that wasn't quite as obvious before.

They stay by the bar a good half hour, just chatting and flirting. Eponine's not horny to leave with a virtual stranger within five minutes of meeting them, she's seen the TV specials and she watches the shows, thanks very much. But Bahorel doesn't give off any creepy vibes and Eponine's going to trust her gut on this one. After a while, the touches start lingering more and the flirting becomes simply outrageous.

« Can I get you another drink, Eponine ? » Bahorel asks after she empties her second refill of water.

« Depends. »

« On what ? » he asks as he raises an eyebrow.

« On where you plan on having that drink... » she trails off, playing with the collar of her blouse.

Bahorel's eyes are drawn to the movement and his eyes take on a darker hue. Still, he clears his throat and takes a step back, like he doesn't want to crowd her. « I live in the fire station, if you'd like a more... intimate setting ? »

He's probably aware he can come off as intimidating and doesn't want to scare her away. It's adorable, really, even if he's just being a decent person.

« I would very much like that, yes, » she grins. « Lead the way. »

The seven flights of stairs up to Bahorel's room do a number on Eponine, but only because Bahorel climbs ahead and she's treated to a breathtaking view of his butt.

« I'm afraid my choice in drinks isn't as extensive as the bar's downstairs, » he says when he bends over to open the little fridge in the corner. Spectacular butt.

« Water's fine if you have any, » she replies from her place at the narrow window overlooking the party. Everyone is so tiny down there, the rhythmic thumping of the music muffled by the height. « I didn't come here for the drink. »

Bahorel snorts from his place in the corner then brings the drinks over. « Glad to see we're on the same page, » he says. « Cheers, Eponine. »

« _A la nôtre_ , Bahorel. »

He's standing so close to her she can smell his aftershave, and the way he chugs his own water shows they share the same eagerness. He almost fumbles putting the glass down on the window's legde when he bends down for a first kiss.

Eponine's thankful for the wall at her back ; turns out Bahorel is a formidable kisser, engulfing her in his arms with a hand cradling the back of her head so he can get the right angle for maximum access, and she needs the support because her legs become wobbly real fast.

She can't suppress the first moan that escapes her throat when he bites down on her lower lip, and Bahorel takes it as the encouragement it is : he lets his hands start exploring her body. He's everywhere at once ; nibbling on the collumn of her throat, pulling on her auburn hair, open palms spanning her back on the way up then raking his nails on the way down. He's fantastically overwhelming.

When he slips a leg between hers and a hand down to her butt, Eponine feverishly clutches at his biceps, the naked skin already hot.

« Alright ? » he asks, pulling back a little. He's as breathless as she is. « Can I ? » he asks as he touches the highest button on her blouse.

« Yes. God, yes. »

He is very delicate despite the heat with which he dives for Eponine's mouth again, and he only goes as far as her high-waisted skirt allows, but it's enough for Bahorel to slip a hand beneath the material. Her breath catches at the way the lace brushes on a nipple, the perfect halfway point between pleasure and pain.

« You need to speed this up a little, » she sighs.

She doesn't tell him twice ; Bahorel tilts his entire body even lower until he's nipping down her collarbone to the flesh of her breasts. She thinks he'll stop there for a while but he doesn't, drops to his knees instead to slide his broad hands down her legs, up her skirt, before his head disappears underneath. She's throbbing with anticipation.

Eponine lets Bahorel manipulate her with a kiss to her inner thigh until one of her legs is resting on his shoulder. She feels like a puppet before his immense body, the way it moves like her pleasure is its ultimate goal. This man seems to be able to drive her wild with but a few touches, and when he kisses the hem of her underwear, featherlight, she's not sure she can remember her own name.

« Can I go on ? » he whispers against her skin. « I'm dying to get my mouth on you. »

« Don't fight the feeling. » Her words run together, sluggish. Just in case Bahorel didn't hear her, Eponine squeezes the line of muscle at the back of his neck. She wishes firemen kept their hair longer so she could properly grab his.

For someone who was granted permission, he spends forever just teasing her. He darts his tongue out along the black lace of her panties, goes back to kissing her inner thigh, velvet smooth and so hot. She's panting, so wet already even though he hasn't yet touched her where she needs him the most.

He slips a hand beneath her panties and caresses her butt, then blows cool air onto her before he engulfs her mound in his mouth, teeth lightly grazing the material. She gasps in appreciation when she feels his stiff tongue pushing on her clit for the first time.

She can't get enough air, as if the room is saturated with the smells of arousal. She can't imagine how Bahorel is doing under her skirt, the heat must be unbearable. Eponine can't help a short burst of laughter : he's a fireman, he can deal with the heat. She is losing her mind and the fun hasn't even started yet.

Finally, finally he slides her panties down her legs, kissing and nipping and stroking the skin as he goes. This beautiful man on his knees is worshipping her with his body and nothing else exists around them. Eponine never wants it to end. Once her underwear's been tossed aside, he makes his way back up her legs, still invisible under her skirt.

She realises how dire an obstacle the flimsy fabric was the second she finally feels Bahorel's mouth on her skin. But not where she wants him, no. He lays short kisses along her sex, little bursts of pleasure firing behind her eyelids as he goes up and down, learning each curve, getting closer to the centre but never quite going there. He draws a little flesh between his lips and sucks; it's almost no pressure at all. Eponine can't help it : she whimpers and tries to bring his head in closer. Bahorel doesn't even budge. He merely bites her inner thigh harder and growls, but it feels more like a reward than a rebuke.

It also means she doesn't expect the instant gratification of a great lick of his tongue along the folds of her pussy right afterwards. It shocks a cry out of her and she folds in on herself, grateful for the support of his tremendous body. The pleasure is gone as soon as it came, though, and he resumes nibbling at her, so in control of his own urges it's driving Eponine insane.

She is so close to orgasm already, she can feel that wave coming in then receeding, relentless, with each minute movement of Bahorel's mouth against her, tugging at her insides with each slide of skin on skin. She flies apart with a sharp shout when he dips the tip of his tongue as low as he can to taste her, his nose bumping her clit. He reaches for her hand and she grips him forcefully, not letting go as long as she's still trembling above him, her entire body spasming in pleasure.

Seeing stars. She is seeing actual stars. God, this man knows his way around a woman's pleasure spots so well that he's left her shivering in the aftermath. He's incredible. Eponine wants to throw him a parade so the entire world knows how amazing he is, and at the same time, she wants to be selfish and keep him a secret.

She is so grateful for the wall that supports her when he drops her leg back to the floor and reappears from under her skirt, grinning wildly. His arresting green eyes seem to twinkle in the dim room and Eponine can see the lower half of his face shine with the results of her orgasm.

« Don't look so smug, you weren't that great. » Bahorel barks out a laugh, perfectly aware that yes, he was.

« I'm not done with you, » he says, purposedly licking his upper lip.

« You're going to kill me, » she croaks as she bends down to kiss him. « And I am so on board with that plan. »

When he stands back up, he takes off his shirt and uses it to wipe his face before he throws it away. He looks good enough to eat, too : the light sheen of sweat on his shoulders, the absurd shadows his abs actually cast and, as her eyes rake him down, she notices the bulge in his pants. The fact that pleasuring her so obviously affected him makes her want to give back as good as she got.

The man is quicker than her, though. Before she can go for his belt, he's already helping her out of her shoes and skirt, and the second the material has pooled around her ankles, Bahorel hauls her up and drops her on his bed. It's not exactly large but the comforter smells like fresh laundry and Bahorel so she can't complain.

Not that she would have, with the way he immediately buries himself between her thighs. He kisses his way down until he reaches the last buttons of her blouse, opens them but doesn't bother taking it off her, too busy going down, down...

« Are you- » _really going there again_ , is what she wants to say, but she chokes on the words at the first touch of Bahorel's tongue on her clit. He is very much going there again, making a comfortable nest for himself, arms sliding underneath her legs and around her middle, holding her down.

There's no finessing this time ; he dives straight in like a man with a purpose. His tongue is heaven and hell combined, dragging along her lips and penetrating her, circling her clit then going back down. The first time he licks the tight bundle of nerves behind her perineum, her entire body spasms and she sinks her nails into his forearms.

Bahorel growls. « You liked that ? » he asks with another quick dart of his tongue. Words are impossible for Eponine at this point so she resorts to pushing herself further on his face with a moan. « Fuck, you're so hot. »

She's flattered, really she is, and she feels the same about Bahorel, but right now she's busy chasing an orgasm powerful enough to blast the entire capital so chit-chat is out of the question.

Grinding against him with the little leeway he gives her while he groans his approval and works his tongue into her, she feels like she's about to explode. She's still sensitive from her first climax and the pleasure borders on overstimulation but she's desperate now and Bahorel is so good, giving her everything he's got.

Until he's slowing down, his mouth going back to maddeningly sucking on her overheated flesh, never staying too long. Eponine can't help but let out a frustrated sob, spurned as she feels, but Bahorel shushes her, gently carressing her sides, her breasts, brushing over a hard nipple. He's everywhere at once but it's not enough. He hisses in pain and draws his arms when she sinks her nails in them, a petty revenge she's bound to regret but speech has become but a concept and she needs him to... to do something. Fast.

She gets her wish. Oh boy does she ever. Bahorel puts his tongue back on her clit and just leaves it there, not moving. She can merely feel his breath on her skin, until she feels something else, a ghost sensation by her entrance. It tickles in a promising way. She lifts her head and looks down, her mind hazy with pleasure, only to see Bahorel's got a finger there, poised and ready to penetrate her. Suddenly she's hit by the need to have him inside her and her body moves of its accord, trying to draw him in. But Bahorel takes everything away, tongue and finger.

« I call the shots for now, » he drawls, his face glistening anew.

« You bastard. » She takes her face in her hands and pants a couple of times before she allows herself to look him right in the eyes. « Please, » she begs.

He smiles and kisses her mound. He dips his head back down, puts his tongue back over her clit, and this prick actually makes a show of lowering a finger to Eponine's entrance. She's too grateful to even think about insulting him, and she makes sure to stay as still as possible. She wants him in her, she needs it so bad.

He pushes in a fraction of an inch at the same time he applies pressure on her clit. The breath rushes out of Eponine with a gasp. Was that a micro-orgasm ? It felt like a micro-orgasm. She closes her eyes to better appreciate Bahorel's next movement. He sinks in a little more and his tongue nudges her again. She can feel her walls gripping and tugging, fluttering around the digit.

It seems to take forever for Bahorel's finger to finally be sheathed inside of her, each burst of pleasure a veritable torture. Then Bahorel starts up a reasonable rhythm, and he doesn't tell Eponine off for trying to impale herself further on him, adds a second finger instead.

It barely takes a minute for her orgasm to reach her. She can't tell what kind of noises she's making, and Bahorel's definitely growling, too because she can feel the vibrations to her core, but she can't bring herself to care if she sounds like a wild animal. She rides out the waves and it takes a while for them to become less strong. 

Either she blacks out or she falls asleep, she can't be sure, because when she opens her eyes next, Bahorel is lying naked next to her and his face is clean. She almost resents that. She likes him covered in her. Down in the courtyard, the party is still going strong.

« I was going to have you sit on my face since you seem to want to be in charge, but I don't think you can take it right now, » he says with a wide smile. Eponine laughs but it's a weak thing. This man can't be real.

« Raincheck, » she says as she turns towards him to give him a sloppy yet heartfelt kiss. « Thank you. »

« My pleasure. »

« Not quite yet, but it's going to be, » she promises as she slides her hand down his abs to his cock. « I'll have you know I'm not a selfish lover, Bahorel. Let me show you. »


End file.
